


Quiet (Bind me with your chains)

by Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Blood Kink, Canon Compliant, Canon Setting, Dom!Lexa, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, F/F, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Hate to Love, I really hope I tagged everything, It's consensual, Knifeplay, Oral Sex, Shaving, Strap-Ons, Sub!Clarke, at least a little, but they have hate sex at some point, i mean mostly, it has feelings and angst, it's smangst, this was supposed to be just smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Mountain, Lexa takes Skaikru into the Coalition. The terms of the alliance force Clarke to a difficult choice and the two have to find a new balance, as Clarke tries to forgives Lexa and the Commander seeks to conquer her lover's heart again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet (Bind me with your chains)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for Clexa Love Week. Of course it's late. Thanks to @mimillekoishi for trapping all the escaped commas (and help me untangle some POVs) A few others let me bounce ideas, so this if for all of you. You know who you are. 
> 
> @lowiiie thanks for the help with Trig.
> 
> This is the first fic of the genre I write- I write plenty of smut, but not like this. I hope you will like what you find.

Clarke squirmed on the furs, trying to find a more comfortable position.

A sting of delicious pain stabbed between her shoulder blades as she wrestled against her restraints. She laid spread-eagled on Lexa’s bed, arms and legs pulled wide apart and tied to the bedposts. Lexa had been gone a long time, she mused as a kernel of apprehension settled in he pit of her stomach. It meant the Ambassadors were being more stubborn than usual.

It meant she’d be punished for it.

A shiver of anticipation ran beneath her skin and the ropes painfully chafed her wrists and ankles, scraping them raw. She hissed between clamped teeth, fighting down the urge to moan out loud. To occupy her troubled mind she turned her head towards the open window,   realizing noon was fast approaching. A bolt of apprehension jolted her heart. Lexa had been gone for half the day already.

She’d be furious.

Clarke’s chest constricted suddenly with panic, lungs refusing to expand no matter how frantically she gulped down air.

Perhaps Lexa had gotten tired of her, her brain mocked

The Council meeting had been an excuse, and soon enough a guard or a handmaiden would come into the room, to find her neatly packaged, cunt wet and needy, awaiting the pleasure of a Commander that would never come back to claim it.

Clarke shook her head violently from side to side as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. She sniffled, inhaling sharply and forced her eyes to stay open until the unshed tears dried away. If she smeared the war paint Lexa had so carefully dabbed across her features in the morning, the Commander would be displeased and make her suffer.

If the Commander, _her_ Commander  ever came back.

The possibility that she wouldn’t was too terrifying to handle, so Clarke busied herself in the only way she could. Normally she would spend the lonely hours drawing, but all she could do in her current state was using her mind as a paintbrush. She pictured Lexa storming inside, flushed and swearing and furious, door crashing shut behind her. She would fling her steel-backed gloves away in anger, causing Clarke to jump and pull at her restraints. _Heda_ would pace around her like a snow-cat stalking its prey, her shawl streaming behind her.  A tail bristling with the Commander’s rage.

Clarke felt warmth collect at her entrance, a drop of wetness sliding downwards torturously slow, getting lost in the pelts beneath her ass. An ingrained reflex had her try to close her thighs, before she could drip more and make a mess. But she could not and she hoped that Lexa would be pleased to find her cunt soaked and ready for her use, enough to disregard the infraction.

Although if she was completely honest, she hoped that Lexa would notice and punish her.

Thinking back, Clarke couldn't believe that things were once different between them and yet she remembered clearly the day Roan had presented her to Lexa, trussed like an animal ready for the slaughterhouse. She remembered the hatred that had set her aflame, how she had screamed and kicked and spat it all at Lexa’s stoic face. She remembered how collected the Commander had been at her outburst, how infuriatingly cold.

Clarke had wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and rip that composed expression off of Lexa’s face with her bare hands. But then, when Lexa had allowed her a chance to slit her throat, Clarke had faltered. The iron grip she had had on the knife’s handle had slackened and she had dropped the weapon to the floor as if scorched.

Had that been their turning point? She was not sure.

She gasped suddenly as something tugged the edges of her mind, scattering her thoughts like rabbits.

The clenching of her sex was laced with pain. An unexpected cramp twisted her lower belly and she arched, mouth open in a silent groan. She shivered, but the cool spring air blowing in from the window did nothing to abate the burning of her skin. The wind’s touch ghosted across her naked frame as more cramps followed the first, the dull pain settling in just below her bellybutton. Clarke knew what it meant and, as repulsive as it was, she could not help her arousal. She closed her eyes, frowning in concentration and slowed her ragged breaths until the ache became something she could bear if not completely ignore. She hoped her body would not betray her. She wanted Lexa to use her, not turn away in disgust.

As the sun slowly began its descent towards dusk and shadows grew longer inside the room, Clarke’s fears held her hostage again. Lexa vanished from her mind, melting into the forest of her thoughts much like she had vanished into the woods around Mount Weather. As the thought became memory, the deaths that had resulted howled through her soul like midnight wraiths and she pushed horror away with effort. She tried to focus on sweeter things, on how she and Lexa had come to be as they were after everything,

Clarke would never forget what followed her arrival to Polis. She had expected Lexa to kill her for the power of Wanheda as the clans’ Ambassadors had clamored for the Skai Girl’s head, but to Clarke's distaste then relief, the Commander had proven to be far more cunning.

Surprising everyone, Heda had taken Skaikru into the Coalition, on the condition that Clarke would submit Wanheda’s power to Lexa for the Commander to use as she pleased. Clarke perfectly remembered Lexa proposing it to her mother, and Abby’s astonished face at the offer. Of course the girl had balked and protested, but somehow she knew that it was all pretense.

Truthfully Clarke had realized long before her own capture that Lexa had chosen as any leader would have. She had come to understand her even and, while time soothed her anger, complete forgiveness was still hard to give.  

She wouldn't admit it out loud but the rest had been all posturing, a band aid she had used to lessen the guilt that gnawed at her bones for taking so many innocent lives.

For a time, she had wanted to believe her hate was genuine but no matter how hot she let it burn, the embers of affection she felt for the grounder leader refused to turn to ash. Lexa’s choice had wrong-footed everyone and Clarke could still feel the Ambassador’s bewildered looks when she had appeared at her side, leashed and obeying her every word. Nobody dared defy the power of Heda and Wanheda combined and some went as far as to whisper Lexa had chained Death itself. Clarke had found herself relieved to follow. She had felt the collar squeeze like hands around her throat in the beginning, but as days then months went by she found reassurance in being led along life’s currents by another set of hands.

That was why she had left Camp Jaha in the first place. She could not deal with how brittle she had become, nor how consuming it was to have someone constantly turn to her, demanding her to save the world. She was sick of trying to arrange things, of making choices people criticized when the result was not quite what they had expected. After the mountain she had realized that she would crumble entirely if she didn't take time to fix herself, but of course nobody could or would see that.

Nobody but Lexa.

And that was how they had started, Clarke thought. Or maybe they just picked up from where they had left off. In private, away from prying eyes, Clarke was Lexa’s equal. She would take the collar off and they would discuss the world together and what to do with it. Nobody but Clarke knew how much Lexa listened to her and took the girl's advice into account. It scared Clarke at first. She had feared that the burden she had tried to escape would be put back on her shoulders. But to her relief, it had not been so.

She quickly found out that it was a whole new kind of decision making, one she was still growing accustomed to. In public she had become Lexa’s voice. She wore her owner’s collar wherever she went and people knew that what she said came from the Commander. They knew her eyes were their Heda’s eyes and that they were never far from scrutiny. Wearing Death's own mask was dangerous however, a risk for Clarke to whittle down to nothing, Lexa was asking a lot from her. Yet they had found a balance.

Together they had created a mental space where Clarke was stripped of everything and became a mindless, simple tool in the hands of her Commander. With each sting of pain her restraints imposed, Clarke was reminded of how much she was submitted to Lexa, how the woman could take everything from her, how good it felt to have her role, her name, her responsibilities ripped away from her

Whenever pressure grew too great she refused to remove the symbol of Lexa’s ownership, to take away the comfort and protection it offered and that she had grown to treasure. When they were alone, when needed, the Commander would take everything from her, and give her exactly what she wanted.  

While Lexa had strength and power, she had never forced Clarke into it. Except for that one time, right after their bargain. In Clarke's mind it was already forgotten but she knew the brunette was still haunted by regret. After that though, Lexa made sure that the door to utter submission was one only Clarke could open.

Unable to repress a small smile at the idea, she let herself drift into a tired daze, her mind inevitably taking her back to the time Lexa had confessed how she desired to do these things to her. Before she could dwell on it further however, the door was thrown open so violently it rebounded on the wall.

Lexa caught it on the downswing and pushed it shut, sliding the deadbolt into place. She quickly moved to the bed, her features schooled to hide emotion. Her actions and her stormy gaze gave her away however then and as her eyes came to rest on Clarke they softened.

Her severe façade lifted for a moment, as she checked her lover’s wrists and ankles with kind, deft touches, “I am sorry it took longer than I expected, _Niron,_ ” she murmured taking the pitcher on the night table and pouring Clarke a cup of water. Sliding a hand behind the blonde’s head, she lifted her carefully and held the mug to the blonde’s lips.

Clarke felt the iciness of spring water lap at her teeth and drank, mostly to soothe Lexa’s concern than to relieve her own thirst. The wait itself was not a cross to bear for her. The bindings were tight enough to chafe, but didn’t really hurt, and Lexa always left one of the knots around Clarke’s wrist looser than the others, so that with patience she could work herself free if there was need. Besides, she liked the stillness of those times, when she could just let her mind wander and get lost in thoughts she wasn’t allowed to explore when she was Wanheda.

She rubbed her cheek against Lexa’s fingers, careful not to smudge the ink adorning her face and placed the softest kiss against the brunette’s knuckles.

“ _Leksa no yu ge daun. Ething ste ogud. Ai ste ogud._ ” [Don’t worry Lexa. Everything is well. I am well.] She husked, voice roughened by hours of silence.

Lexa trapped her gaze in hers for a moment making sure Clarke really was all right, then nodded curtly. She stood carefully and placed the empty cup on the night table, then started to pace around the room, making vigorous use of the space available.

“The Skai Ambassador,” she began in clipped, cool tones that sent little shocks like electricity down Clarke’s spine, “proved very difficult today. I hope her daughter has more sense,” she whirled with a savage glint in her eyes and Clarke felt its heat all over her body. “Well, girl? Answer me.”

“ _Sha, Heda_.”

Lexa flashed a wolfish grin that stopped Clarke’s heart. With swift movements she tugged her gloves off and sent them flying into a corner, just like the blonde had imagined.

Clarke’s cunt was pounding relentlessly now, the inner part of her thighs coated with her wetness. She wiggled as much as she was able as the rising tide of her arousal was accompanied by crippling cramps.

The motion was not lost to Lexa, who discarded her armor quickly. Her clothes joined the pile of war gear on the floor, until she was standing at the foot of the bed in nothing more than undergarments and her breasts’ bindings, eyes trained on the slick glistening between Clarke’s legs. She did not bother cleaning the war paint off her face perfectly knowing the feral glow it lent to her eyes and, more importantly, she had seen the effect it had on Clarke.

The blonde’s own make-up was still as she had applied it earlier that day, the war paint around her eyes a shade of deep blue to symbolize the sky she had fallen from. The design was different too and the pigment’s hue dimmed the blue of the blonde’s irises to the cold azure of northern wastes. Clarke’s face was flush with what Lexa knew were excitement and fear in equal measure, her eyes hooded by desire. Lexa’s loins stirred, her undergarments dampening slowly.

“So you managed to keep quiet,” she nodded to herself, pride brightening her eyes to a pale green, “and you are thoroughly soaked.”  She walked along the bed, feathering light touches along Clarke’s side, until she could bend over. Cupping her face she placed a kiss between her eyes, “just like a good girl.”

The Commander felt Clarke shudder in pleasure at the praise and bumped their noses playfully before capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Without warning, Lexa’s hand shot down between the blonde’s thighs and grasped her sex, squeezing without mercy. She felt Clarke’s hips buck upwards, spine arching as much as the ropes permitted, shoulders pushed backwards in an awkward position. She used that opportunity to claim her lover’s mouth completely, thrusting her tongue deep inside with ardor, drawing Clarke’s out and further into her own mouth to suck on it.

The girl’s moan was muffled, but reached her ears regardless and she broke the kiss to bring her hand back up and slap Clarke’s cheek so that it would tingle lightly. Her fingers left a streak of slick on Clarke’s face that the girl, nostrils flaring, inhaled with obvious delight.

“Silence pet.” The caress of Lexa’s breath was as soft as when the woman once confessed how she had always wanted her surrender. Clarke shivered as the brunette’s lips grazed her ear, “Titus is in the map room down the hall.” She pursued, licking Clarke’s earlobe slowly, then taking the tender flesh between her teeth and biting hard causing the blonde to tense slightly under her.

A quick swipe of Lexa's tongue soothed the bruised skin, then the brunette dragged her mouth along Clarke’s jaw, nibbling as she went.

She flicked her tongue along Clarke’s lips and they parted for her in invitation. She chuckled.

“Always so impatient.”

She dipped her hand between Clarke’s thighs again, and sliced her fingers along her slit, coating them in the sticky juices. She then brought them up between their faces so that Clarke could see how wet her own cunt was. Not that she wasn’t aware, Lexa was sure, but she liked to see her blush. They had done this before and one would think that Clarke had gotten used to the teasing, the baiting, but she hadn’t and Lexa was always looking for a way to goad her into breaking her rules.

Because when Clarke broke the rules _Heda_ got to punish her.

It was one of the many power games between them. Sometimes it was Clarke who disobeyed on purpose, using Lexa’s own rules against her to get what she wanted and other times Lexa pushed her to transgression.

It kept them centered, equal despite everything.

Lexa knew how easy it was to allow their public roles to slip in every crevice of their private lives and how important it was not to let that happen. Usually they both fought it, except on nights like these. The last few weeks had been restless and stressful, with the clans’ usual squabbling heightened by the arrival of inclement weather and they needed the release.

A rush of blood tinged Clarke’s cheeks a deeper red and Lexa smirked.

“You made quite the mess, _Wanheda_ ,” she cast the title in Clarke’s face like a sharpened stone meant to hurt.  “Clean it up.” she went on, fingers hovering above the blonde’s mouth,

Clarke’s tongue reached out slowly, and with it she flicked the tips of Lexa’s fingers while the edge of a smile dawned on her lips. Lexa was familiar with some of the tricks Clarke used to try and take control. No matter how much she said she wanted to surrender, there was a stubborn streak in her that never gave in. The Commander knew it had kept her alive when the Hundred had come to the ground, and later allowed her to survive after the Mountain, whereas someone weaker would have crumbled.

Lexa loved her for it and yet she sought to break her, time and time again. Stubbornness turned to unyielding granite was what she knew kept Clarke mired in guilt.

It was her greatest weapon and her unavoidable destruction.

Tearing Clarke down and molding her into a different person was not Lexa’s goal  as the blonde had been changing herself on her own. Lexa knew, because she had seen it with her own eyes, that Clarke could elevate herself.

She had just forgotten how, letting guilt cloud her every choice. Clarke had punished herself for something that had been a consequence of Lexa’s actions and the Commander’s goal was now to repair what she had so badly damaged.  

Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her fingers back a fraction. A small pout turned the corners of Clarke’s lips downwards and she struggled to lift off the bed. Lexa pulled farther more and more, until she could see tendons stand out on Clarke’s neck. She watched with satisfaction as the ropes dug painfully into her lover’s flesh, leaving angry marks that would turn into bruises the next morning.

Finally, when Clarke started to shake with effort, sweat plastering her hair to her face, Lexa relented, allowing her to suck her fingers clean. 

Clarke started slow, edging her tongue along the nails of the offered fingers, her mouth tingling at the saltiness. She paused, before deliberately dragging her tongue along the first knuckles, then wrapped it around for a swirl that reached down further before finally closing her lips on the gift, sucking Lexa’s fingers into her mouth completely.

Her eyes fluttered close as the Commander’s fingers slowly moved in and out of her mouth and she felt Lexa’s other hand on her shoulder. She was eased back onto the bed, and the mattress dipped when the brunette climbed up on it and straddled the blonde. Clarke could feel the gathering heat between Lexa’s legs press down against her midriff. It thrilled her the way Lexa’s fires were stoked at seeing her so helpless. Her tongue swirled around the brunette’s pumping fingers with insistence, collecting every last drop of herself. There was something inherently perverted about having to lick Lexa’s fingers this way, but she loved to be filled by her own taste. She knew how ashamed people would be for her if they saw her like this and it excited her.

Lexa sighed above her and, thinking the woman distracted, Clarke raised her hips slightly. She wanted to feel more of Lexa’s heat against her skin, even if it had to be through cloth.

She loved how Lexa’s presence could arouse her.

The brunette was not as caught up in the moment as Clarke had hoped, and when Lexa’s weight disappeared the blonde almost lost it. She was about to keen in muted protest, when Lexa fit an extra finger into her mouth.

The emptiness above her was heavy and unbearable. The wind blew stronger, cooling the sweat that coated her skin. Uncontrollable shivers wracked her limbs. In that moment the only real thing, what mattered were Lexa’s fingers inside her mouth. Her world smoldered at the edges, consumed by need and focused on the warmth of Lexa’s flesh between her lips and the steady beat of her heart on her tongue. When it was ripped away, Clarke cried out.

Above all else, she dreaded the Commander’s absence, despite knowing she had just brought the punishment upon herself.

Lexa withdrew her hand watching panic distort Clarke’s features with delight. To her credit the blonde’s mouth contorted around her scream as she tried to swallow it back into her lungs.

The loss that filled her blue eyes was punishment enough. The relief that lit Clarke’s gaze as it found her own so close, was Lexa’s reward.

The brunette bent forward, practiced hands finding the knots that kept Clarke’s wrists bound and she untied them swiftly.

When the ties fell away Clarke hissed, the blood flow increased and kneading her flesh gently, Lexa tried to help her get rid of the rigidity. She allowed her pet a short reprieve, before pulling her to a sitting position and piling some pillows behind her back to prop her up.

Clarke’s cheek grazed Lexa’s cloth-bound breasts and she could not help but nuzzle into them. The brunette’s smell enveloped her in softness like a warm fur in the dead of winter or a favorite blanket. It was sweat after a long day, boiled leather and oiled steel and beneath it all she could detect a hint of the mint leaves the Commander had a habit of chewing during the day.

For a moment she thought she would be swatted away or scolded but Lexa just let out an amused snort, before moving Clarke’s arms to a different position. Clarke’s shoulder joints popped in protest and her breathing hiked. She forced down instincts that screamed at her to resist, and shifted her gaze upwards to watch Lexa tie her hands together right above her head.

She met green eyes, alive with boundless hunger and felt herself disappear beneath their surface. Lexa’s mouth crashed down on hers like an uncaring avalanche. The kiss was all-devouring, encompassing, the Commander’s tongue dancing along her lips, breaking her defences to gain entrance. Where before had been passion was now command. Every swirl of Lexa’s tongue was a demand of capitulation, the fierceness of the siege shattering Clarke to her core. She crumbled under the brunette’s lips, mouth bruised, breathless.

Lexa gave an experimental tug to the new knots and when they did not give, she hummed in satisfaction against Clarke’s mouth, the vibrations reaching deep into her lover’s chest.

She pulled away, gently this time, and her eyes roamed over the slopes of the blonde’s body. The dips and valleys of Clarke’s body were her dominion, one she had spent countless hours charting.

She reached down, carding her fingers through the tuft of hair between the girl’’s legs. Lexa knew shaving gave the girl confidence which is precisely why she ordered Clarke not to. Repressing a smirk she said, “let’s ready you _Skaigada,_ [Sky Girl]. We have a long night ahead of us.”

She twisted the curls between her fingers and tugged hard enough for lines of pain to crease Clarke’s brow. “ _Mema telon klir in_ ,” [remember the safeword] The words tumbled out almost as an afterthought but Lexa was serious. She waited for Clarke’s terse nod, before releasing her hold and moving to her dresser.

She pulled out a whetstone and a flat leather case, worn with use. It held a collection of razors and small blades, similar to the one Clarke always carried around with her healing supplies. She was aware of the sky blue gaze directed at her back, and moved deliberately slow, playing with the blonde’s impatience. When an irritated huff broke the silence, she could not fight down a smile and was glad her face was turned away.

Using her own body to conceal what she was doing, Lexa could feel the weight of Clarke’s heated gaze grow piercingly sharp at her back. It was almost as if the blonde hoped to see through Lexa if she scowled hard enough.

The brunette poured cold water into a chipped basin and, throwing a towel over one shoulder, she walked back to her waiting pet.

She enjoyed the way Clarke’s eyes widened as she opened the case, the blades inside gleaming dully in the waning light. An enticing blend of lust and fear battled on the blonde’s face, and her blue eyes followed Lexa’s every move. The Commander chose a straight razor and held it up between them, making its blade glow silver and gold as the rays of the setting sun glanced off the steel.

Clarke’s strangled gasp sent tingles down Lexa’s crotch.

She took the whetstone in her free hand and began sharpening the blade, the soft _whisk-whisk_ of metal on stone mixing with Clarke’s hastened breathing.

Lexa didn’t spare her charge more than one fleeting look, but the way the girl’s chest rose and fell, like a raging wave that Clarke was struggling to keep under control, only increased the wetness between her own legs. Her undergarments were drenched and her clit brushed against their seam as she sat cross-legged next to her slave. She had to will her hands not to tremble with desire.

Lexa relished their play, but the power she had over Clarke in these moments was not what she sought. She was _Heda_ and thirteen clans bowed to her. Lexa was young, but she wielded enough power to last several lifetimes. Secretly Lexa loathed herself for her betrayal. It had been logical at the time, to choose people she knew and had thought lost over strangers. She had done what was expected of her, what her advisors had counseled. She had put her people first as she had done when Costia had been taken from her. It would have been far easier to declare war on Azgeda then, yet she had swallowed her grief and welcomed the hated Ice Warriors like brothers. The difference had been that only her heart had been shattered.

When she had proposed the deal to _Skaikru_ she had hoped that in time they would have managed to mend things with Clarke. Of course it had not been that easy.

She lifted her gaze, halting her work and took in the sight of the beautiful woman in her bed. As always wonder filled her heart, and she had to clench her jaw not to smile lovingly down at the blonde.

All Lexa wanted was for Clarke to trust her.

She had prayed, but never really dared to hope that Clarke would trust her again. The blonde had surprised her, and every time they played their games, said trust what tested, stretched, its limits always pushed a little bit more out of sight.

She set the whetstone aside, and soaped up the cloth swiping it between Clarke’s thighs. The coldness of the rag caused her lover’s teeth to chatter softly for a moment,one cut short by the rising heat of her drenched core.

Clarke swallowed hard, as Lexa’s fingers started to tease her through the soaked cloth. There was so much wetness she could not tell if it was her own or the water.

Probably both.

Goosebumps pebbled her skin and she shivered, tilting her hips back and out of reach. Lexa let out a snarl and her free hand grabbed Clarke’s hip, painfully scratching her nails onto silky skin, leaving red lines, hurting in a way that had clarke try to pull back further.

Air was sucked in sharply between her teeth at the sting of Lexa’s open handed slap on her thigh. It had no time to reach her lungs as two of the fingers teasing her cunt slid inside her through the cloth. The rag felt rough against her walls, the fabric thin but somewhat scratchy, making more heat pool at her entrance despite the pain. Lexa’s fingertips stroked deep inside her, teased her drenched depths coaxing another wave of wetness out of her.

This time it was too much and she could not hold back.

She threw her head back and moaned.

Lexa’s fingers disappeared in a heartbeat, along with the cloth. They were replaced by the icy touch of the razor, as the Commander ran the blade carefully on her skin, following each sinuous curve with exaggerated care. A wave of humiliation burned up  Clarke’s neck, setting her cheeks and ears on fire. Having Lexa do such private thing for her was tearing Clarke's dignity apart

Another set of cramps hit her, as Lexa’s fingers stretched her skin to better scrape off the hair. These ones were deeper, coiling like snakes inside her abdomen, tightening around Clarke’s insides with a vengeance.

The blonde bit her lower lip, holding back a hiss of pain, the effort sending little tremors coursing through her limbs.

Suddenly she felt the reassuring weight of Lexa’s hand on her belly. “Hold still, _Skaigada_.” Lexa said, her tone cool and detached, but not unkind, “unless you want me to cut you.”

The veiled threat sent Clarke’s sex clenching with desire, the heat that was turning her every cell to ash a sharp contrast with the chilling promise of agony born on the edge of the blade.

Lexa started to rub small circles over the blonde’s spasming abs and she let out a sigh of satisfaction when she felt her relax, sink back into the furs. She dipped the razor in the water basin to rinse the blade, then resumed her work.

Slowly, the whisper of the razor on clarke's skin lulled lexa into a dream-like state, her eyes focused on her task and her hands working but her mind elsewhere, her soul soothed to stillness with each repetitive move The knots that tension had put into her back unraveled slowly and the tendons that had been pulled taut by the shouting match she’d had with Abigail unwind.

The brunette glanced up at Clarke’s face and, noticing that she seemed out,  overwhelmed by sensations, she conceded herself a wry smile, one that turned into a half-bitter grimace. In other circumstances she would have chortled with the irony of it. Her relationship with Clarke had come so far in a few short months, yet with her mother Lexa found herself stuck on square one. Abigail opposed her every other turn, holding the fact she had taken Clarke away from her as a personal grudge.

The razor danced along the insides of Clarke’s thighs, flashing against skin so pale it reminded Lexa of snow and, as she lost herself into the motions, her memory went back to the day she gambled the Coalition to get back the woman she loved.

* * *

 

_"You drive a hard bargain, Heda.” Kane said, as he leant forward palming the tabletop. His voice was strained, his features a picture of struggle as he tried to contain his shock. He had accompanied Clarke’s mother as military advisor and Lexa wished he was the one in charge because he seemed to understand that leadership required compromise, far better than Dr. Griffin did._

_“Bargain?” The Chancellor’s voice rose an octave as she rounded on him, “this is not up for discussion, Marcus!”_

_They argued back and forth, voices raising heatedly. Both seemed to have forgotten who they were sharing the room with and Lexa was grateful for the chance to study them without being obvious._

_Titus shot the Skaikru leaders a dirty look, then flicked hard eyes to the Commander. His lips turned downwards. “Children.” He mouthed silently, a statement Lexa was more than inclined to support._

_She had had her own confrontation with the Fleimkepa, but they had sense enough to keep it out of sight. Titus had insisted Clarke that was dangerous, unpredictable. He had sided with the clans’ Ambassadors: take Wanheda’s power by taking her life. Lexa disagreed. Why would she do something ordinary when she could show the Coalition she had strength enough to harness death and bend it to her will? It would make her look invincible._

_Or weak, he had pointed out._

_Lexa repressed doubt and her eyes sought the subject of their discussion. Clarke had kept back so far, using the shadows that gathered at the far side of the room as a wall between them. In the darkness however her eyes shone like distant stars, close but forever out of reach._

_Pointing at the Commander Kane said, “We will not survive winter without their help,”_

_“So, we should just...what? Give them Clarke as an offering?”_

_Clearing her throat to get their attention, Lexa tried “Clarke would not be harmed. I swear this to you.”_

_Abigail growled in disgust and took an angry step forward. Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder and Lexa saw Titus tense, ready to stop the woman if she tried anything. The fact that a table stood in the way seemed lost to both men._

_“She would be your trophy,” Clarke’s mother practically spat, “to put on a leash and parade around at whim.”_

_Lexa’s eyes bore into Clarke’s and she saw their blue depths flickering with something she could not identify. An instant later it was gone and peaceful summer skies went back to ice._

_“Yes.” Heda murmured._

_Talking over Kane, who urged her to calm down, the Chancellor mumbled, “we may as well string her up like we did Finn…” Outraged the man yelled and they devolved back to shouting at each other._

_Lexa rubbed her temples tiredly as a nasty headache pounded behind her eyes._

_“Stop it,” Clarke hissed, suddenly striding forward, “stop talking like I’m not here.” The two Skaikru leaders froze and everyone looked at her._

_Kane raised his free hand to try and placate her. “Maybe we should take a break.” He suggested._

_Clarke swatted his hand away, “I’m not a child, Kane. I don’t need breaks.” She spat furiously._

_Clarke’s mother stepped in, aghast at her daughter’s sudden fury. Lexa recognized the rage that was boiling out of the blonde as a pale reflection of the hatred Clarke had shown towards her when Roan brought his prize to the throne room_

_“Clarke, “ she began in what Lexa interpreted as her “no-nonsense” healer voice, “perhaps Marcus is right. We are letting emotion get the upper hand.” She cast one long look at Lexa, “if the Commander would agree to resume talks tomorrow…”_

_Before Lexa could say that yes, of course she would, Clarke shook her head with a growl._

_“Why wait?” her voice dripped with venom, “so you can decide what’s best for me again? So that whether you sell me over like cattle or refuse her offer, pretending you’re doing what’s best?”_  

_“That’s not…” Abigail swallowed, “I mean...we’re trying…”_

_“Our people…” Kane followed, but Clarke’s icy stare silenced him._

_“...need me,” the blonde finished for him mockingly. “Please Kane, spare me the talk. I know better than anyone.“ Her gaze tangled with Lexa’s for a moment, and the Commander’s heart thumped faster in her chest. Clarke seemed on the verge of adding something and swallowed it back._

_“That’s very unfair Clarke,” her mother resumed, “we have all lost something here.”_

_“Oh yeah? What exactly have you sacrificed mom? Because it seems to me that you left all the tough choices to others while keeping that shiny Chancellor pin for yourself.”_

_The healer reeled as if struck. “Your father-”_

_“That was your doing. Stop blaming it on others,” Clarke snarled “I didn’t have a choice.”_

_The slap rang out like gunshot in the stunned silence._

_“How dare you!”_

_Clarke brought a hand to her reddened cheek and smirked. “I hope that made you feel better about yourself,” the blonde hid behind snark, but Lexa saw the pain in her eyes. She was cracked and raw, the lives she had taken shadowing her like ghosts._

_“Enough,” Lexa’s quiet command was the sound  of a blade being unsheathed, a blade on which Dr. Griffin impaled herself, too caught up in her rant._

_“Em pleni!” [enough]._ _she shouted, efficiently drawing attention to her. She paused, waiting for everyone to be ready to hear her out before calmly ordering, "everybody, out."_

_They scurried to comply, Clarke giving a sarcastic bow, the others stammering apologies. Titus followed them, a miniature storm of disapproval._

_Just as the blonde reached the door Lexa spoke again, halting her in her tracks. “Klark, I would like a word if you please?” For a moment she thought the girl would refuse, but then she whirled around, blue eyes clashing with green and the girl gave a terse nod._

_Once alone, silence fell between them, the room hot and suffocating. Clarke regretted staying behind as Lexa’s gaze trapped her like a green vine. She opened her mouth, closed it, then her shoulders slumped forward tiredly as she shuffled back to the table._

_“I’ll do it.” She mumbled, staring at the wooden surface._

_Convinced she had misheard the almost whisper, Lexa questioned incredulously. "What?"_

_“I said I agree. I will kneel before you…” she trailed off, then raised her eyes, the anger brightening them so terrible if froze Lexa inside “I will wear your collar...Heda.”_

_Lexa’s mouth fell open and Clarke genuinely smiled for the first time since they had been reunited. But it was cold and sent chills running down Lexa’s spine._

_“Kane is right, they won’t survive the winter, not without your help. But don’t go thinking I do it for my people.”_

_“Then why?” Lexa asked, dreading the answer._

_“You get to wield the power of Wanheda and I get to make your life miserable,” Clarke’s chuckle was like ice breaking. “Everybody wins.”_

_Blood thundered in Lexa’s ears as the Commander walked around the table towards the blonde. Her heart beat so fast with grief it felt as if her ribs were about to split open. Clarke walked backwards, just out of reach._ _Soon they were circling each other, Lexa unable to tell who was chasing who._

_“Klark…” Lexa choked out._

_“Don’t Klark me, Lexa.” There was no trace of warmth in the way she said her name._

_“Please…”_

_“I fucking hate you,” Clarke broke away from their dance and went for the door, “and that’s never, ever going to change.” She paused, hand on the doorknob and threw one last frigid look over her shoulders.  “Ste yuj, Commander.”_

_The door banged shut, hiding her from view, and a ragged sob shook Lexa’s frame, then a second, soon followed by others, until tears slid freely down her face._

_Clarke’s farewell sounded like a curse._

**Author's Note:**

> So did I do a good job so far? What do you think?
> 
> You can also send your headcanons my way on Tumblr @kendrene


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